


He Refuses All Fear

by anarchycox



Series: Missing: Four Demons (If Found Return to Hell) [16]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Conversations, M/M, Protective Eggsy, Soft Feels, absurdity, asking someone out, chicken soup cure all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 14:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Follows immediately after Small Madnesses. Percival makes Harry some chicken soup for the hangover he is sure the tailor will have.





	He Refuses All Fear

He could feel his aunt looking over his shoulder. “I am not adding more salt,” he said firmly, “the chicken is salty enough.” He could hear the ghostly foot tapping, and reached for the kosher salt, because Aunt Ruth wouldn't stop until he did. “There? Happy now?” He yawned, and while it was simmering went over to the coffee maker, whimpered when he realized he had drunk it all. He emptied the filter, and hands tried to slap him away from making more.

“Look, I have been up since 3am to make this, I am tired. I am dropping this at the shop right at opening and then I have to read a 200 page contract. Today is a day I need to be powered by caffeine.” Percival sighed in relief when Auntie Elaine stopped. He heard a bang at the pot as he was pretty sure Aunt Ruth added a little more salt. “You know I liked it better when you hadn’t figured out how to do things yet. You’ve gotten stronger since Merlin’s visit. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Percival put the coffee on, and went to check the soup. The broth was perfect. He strained out the aromatics, and added in the chicken he had roasted last night. He chopped up the vegetables and when the coffee maker beeped he reached for it, like a man for a life preserver. “Mmmm, coffee.” He had had enough that it was sitting not great on his stomach, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since he had been awake. He added a touch of milk to the coffee, to soften the taste a bit, and made some toast. “This is stupid,” he muttered, and felt a kiss against his head. “Thank you, Aunt Ruth.”

It was silly to be making Harry chicken soup for a hangover. But Aunt Ruth’s chicken soup healed everything. Colds, bronchitis, dejection over poorly done tests, break ups. Uncle Irving had sworn that he put his foot in a bowl once, and his bunions went away. Harry would be hurting, and all Percival knew was Aunt Ruth’s soup healed hurt. So he had roasted the chicken the night before and begun the prep at 3:45 this morning. He felt a bit guilty because it was only getting a few hours to simmer, not all day, but still. He yawned yet again, and checked the soup. Added the carrots and fresh onion. He put it on low and went to shower.

Percival ran the water a bit too hot hoping it would wake him up, and then too cold when that did not help. He was overly aware as shaved his face with his safety razor, and maybe sort of drifted a bit as he brushed his teeth. He did not like the word dither, it sat oddly on his teeth, but there was no other word for how long it was taking him to pick out his suit. A breeze kept nudging a simple one, but he shook his head.

“This is to ask Harry out on a date. Simple is not the way to go.” He finally reached for the ash grey with lilac pinstripe. “He is a man with flair. And he deserves a bit of a fuss made over this.” He dressed slowly, he always did. It was silly but his suit felt like armor. That it protected him from whatever was waiting out in the world. Each piece put on made him bulletproof. It was a more fanciful idea than he usually went with, but he felt safer every time he put on a suit that Harry had made for him.

He went for a half windsor knot, the suit was flash enough. The cuff links were simple, and he’d wear black oxfords with it. He wore the watch his aunts bought him when he graduated law school. He carried the jacket downstairs and checked the soup. It was coming along beautifully. He went to his home office and answered a few emails, made a call or two and began that contract that was just a mire of stupidity. This merger was the worst idea on the planet, but the men insisted it was going to be fine. When it was twenty minutes until Kingsman would open, Percival went to the kitchen and put soup in a large thermos which was put in an insulated bag with some bread. He put it over his shoulder, and started for Kingsman.

“Hiya,” Eggsy called. He was out washing the windows. “Harry now has a guy for this, but bloke is never as good as me.”

Percival smiled fondly, remembering when he met Eggsy, and how far he had come in the handful of years. “How is he today?” 

“Fine.”

Percival paused. “Really?” That surprised him, considering the state that he and Merlin had been in.

“Yeah, he said hangovers are a punishment created by the archangel Rapheal and since that fucker is a complete wanker, Harry just don’t believe in them, or accept them as something that happens to him. I dunno, he started in on the archangels and I try, bruv, but swear down after three minutes my brain goes to my happy place. Harry carries such a fucking grudge.”

“I am unsure that you should make light of a man’s faith,” Percival chided. He wondered why that made Eggsy laugh so. “Is it so funny?”

“Look, Percival. Based on comments and that other language I’ve heard you mutter under your breath when you stare at Harry’s arse, you are Jewish, yeah?”

“I am.”

“And not like me and Protestant, where my arse hasn’t been in church since was 12 and maybe nicked a good bit from the collection plate.”

“No, not quite like that,” Percival agreed. “How much trouble did you get into?”

“Minister never knew. Mum flayed me alive but she were also the pragmatic sort since we were broke as fuck, so we kinda kept the money. But statue of limitations is up on that crime, so not like much is going to happen to me.” Eggsy put down his window cleaner. “You, man of principle and faith - just oozes off you, plus one day you were in and forgot to take the head thing off.”

“I am used to the weight of it.” Percival almost gave the correct name for it, but this wasn't a moment for education.

“So not going to make fun of your faith, because it is actual faith and belief in something bigger, and I think that is honestly pretty cool.”

“Cool?”

Eggsy shrugged. “Just what I think. Now Harry - that ain’t faith. Been listening to Merlin because him I never tune out, even when he is explaining his book organization system for the 50th time, and faith and knowledge are two whole separate fucking things. Harry don’t have a single drop of faith in anything but Merlin, his favourite seam ripper, and the fact that people will always fuck up. He’s got knowledge but not faith - and trust me I will take the piss when he goes on and on about what he knows.”

“You have such odd conversations.”

“You’ll get used to them. What’s in the bag?”

“Oh, well,” Percival could feel his cheeks heating. “Hangover cure.”

“Fuck, that is so adorable. He’ll be really annoyed he doesn’t have a hangover.” Eggsy dropped everything, and hurried over in front of Percival. They went into the shop, and Percival wasn’t quite sure what Eggsy was planning. “Harry,” Eggsy was called. Harry was standing at the big table laying out various ties. “Harry, I know you said you were fine, but are you sure you aren’t just a teeny tiny bit hungover?”

Percival smiled, Eggsy really was a sweet lad for a former thug.

Harry didn’t look up from his task. “I told you Eggsy, hangovers are a tool of the angels, and we do not believe in anything they do.”

“I would have thought them described as the devil or such.” Percival had no idea, the devil was a fairy tale to him, a movie character and nothing else.

“No, we invented alcohol, not our fault people got stupid with it.” Harry looked up, and saw Percival. “Hello.”

“He brought you a hangover cure, Harry, wasn’t that brilliant? So maybe you feel just a touch gross, like maybe you hadn’t wanted to admit to me how gross you feel because you are rubbish at letting people take care of you?”

Percival saw in a moment that it wasn’t just Merlin with his romance novels - Eggsy was a romantic too. They were rather perfect together.

Harry looked at Percival, and Percival did his best not to fidget under the intense gaze. “You brought me a hangover cure?”

“I brought you the best cure all I know, my aunt’s soup.”

“So you had her make it?”

“No, she’s dead, though she did add extra salt, because apparently I never add enough.” Percival realized that was an odd sentence, few people really truly believed in ghosts. He had two and some days didn’t believe in them. “I mean -”

“Merlin said your ghosts are nice,” Harry offered. “Though a bit…”

“Auntie Elaine is more than a bit,” Percival sighed. “She wanted me to wear the blue suit today.”

“The grey with lilac stripe is my favourite on you,” Harry said softly.

“You like it when I dress with more flair. A lot of my wardrobe is your insisting on bolder items.” Percival smiled a bit. “I suppose to make me something I am not.”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I see you. You hide a lot, but you are plenty bold.”

“This is killing me,” Eggsy whispered, and looked between them. “Dear god I am watching a rom com and it is killing me.”

  
“It can kill you outside,” Harry suggested sharply.

“Look, then I’ll just be slammed against the glass watching, and looking like a weird creeper getting off on suits.” Eggsy settled on the couch. “And I know he ain’t going to try shit, but I know you are scared about what is next, so I am sitting right here, to keep you safe. Just ignore me, I’ll text Merlin.” Eggsy pulled out his phone, and pretended that he was paying attention to it. It was ruined by the way he was looking at them out of the corner of his eye.

“I have never had a mother, and certainly don’t need a former guttersnipe criminal current employee taking on the role,” Harry said.

“Yeah you do, I’m staying here and Mrs. Bennetting the shit out of this.”

Percival could see Harry gearing up to fight with Eggsy about this, and could see how the whole moment would be derailed, and he would lose his nerve, and it would be another six months before he tried again.

“You are beautiful,” Percival said. “I have spent almost triple my yearly clothing budget to come and just see you. See you smile at me.”

Harry was just staring at him, in a silence that sat uncomfortably on him. Percival was used to Harry talking. He always kept up a stream of conversation during a fitting. There would be silences but this was a different one entirely. Percival handed over the bag. “I brought you soup because I wanted you to feel better. I wanted to be the one to make you feel better. I want to make you feel good. May I take you out to dinner so that maybe I could make you feel good?” Percival couldn’t stop talking now that the words were spilling out, speaking was holding back his terror at all of this. “I want to see you by candlelight, make you smile and hold back a loud laugh. I want to take you somewhere absurd, unexpected. A place where anyone else would look out of place in a suit, but you fit. I think you could fit me. I think I could fit you. If you like?”

Harry wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t taking the bag of soup. Fuck. He had misread years. Years he had been wrong about who they were. “Or, I’ll just find a new tailor.” Percival put the bag on the large table. “I hope you enjoy the soup,” he said. He started to walk away, but Harry just held up a hand and Percival stilled.

Harry pulled out his phone, and after a couple presses held it to his ear. “Merlin? Okay, we are are going to pretend after this did not happen. That I handled this fine. But Percival just said this to me,” and Percival listened as Harry repeated verbatim everything Percival had said. “Got it? What the fuck is the correct reponse? What do you mean why am I asking you. You have now read 702 romance novels. What the fuck is the correct romantic reponse?” Harry was glaring at the phone. “Not calling you to ask for the correct response? Well it is too bloody late now, isn’t it? Yes he is hearing me do this. So is Eggsy, who is trying not to laugh, and will be forced to wear an orange velvet smoking jacket in retaliation. Yes, okay, yes, yes, yes, got it. This never happened. Goodbye.”

Percival wondered what was going on, thoroughly lost in the madness that was Harry Hart. It was a madness he had rather hoped he would get to sink into, just a little.

Harry was standing close, and then his hand sort of brushed over Percival’s hair. “Seeing you? Any day I see you, that is a good day. For a while, seeing you was the only good my days ever had. I am scared,” Harry admitted. “But I want more good days. I want more you. I would be very happy to go to dinner with you.”

“Merlin told you to say that? That fucker, his idea of romance yesterday was telling me he got me the red pepper Triskets I like on sale so there were two boxes. Bloody hell, he is not allowed to have more game on your behalf than he has with me.” Eggsy began furiously texting, and Percival would have laughed but he was busy being lost in Harry’s small smile.

“We have a date?” Percival smiled at Harry. 

“We have a date,” Harry agreed.

“Excellent. Percival let me know which restaurant you pick. I’ll be totally subtle, won’t even take the table next to you. I’ll sit at the bar - provided it lets me keep Harry in sight lines.”

“Eggsy -”

“Harry do not start, I’m fucking coming, so you feel safe.”

“He won’t hurt me,” Harry said.

“I won’t,” Percival promised.

“That’s great, and I’ll be watching from the bar to make sure of it.” Eggsy stood up. “Right back to window cleaning. Because the romantic staring at each other is getting a bit boring. Carry on.” He whistled as he walked out of the store.

“I have to go read a contract.”

“I have to sew a shirt.”

“Enjoy the soup, good for what ails you.” Percival patted the bag a bit.

Harry leaned that bit more in. “Nothing ails me today.” He kissed Percival’s cheek and then took the bag, upstairs to his office.

Percival left the store and snorted a bit as Eggsy shouted “I’ve got my eye on you,” after him. It was charming how protective he was over a man twice his age. Percival compartmentalized, and managed to do a fair bit of work. When he went home, he heated the soup for himself. He could feel his aunts hovering at his shoulder. 

“Yes, I have a date.” The lights in the house flickered wildly. He ate another spoonful. Aunt Ruth had been right as always, it had needed the salt she added. 

  
  



End file.
